


easier (to let the pain pull you in)

by Graphiteandhumanity



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Angst, Autistic Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Destructive stimming, Good Friend Alex Mercer (Julie and The Phantoms), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graphiteandhumanity/pseuds/Graphiteandhumanity
Summary: Luke has a Meltdown.Alex tries to help him cope.Nothing is fixed, but maybe a little bit of peace can make it all bearable again.
Relationships: Alex Mercer/Luke Patterson/Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms)
Kudos: 50





	easier (to let the pain pull you in)

**Author's Note:**

> Teen and up rating is due to the depiction of Luke's meltdown including self injury in the form of hitting his head as a stim.
> 
> I struggled to tag this fic so please feel free to use this note as your sign to shut the tab if you aren't comfortable!

Luke is having a bad day.  
He's on edge and his hands hurt from the tight grip he has on the ends of his sleeves.  
That's right, sleeve. His day was going so awfully he needed the extra later if protection, even if it strips him of his self declared carefully crafted rockstar look.

He just wants to curl up and lose himself in his CDs playing loudly from the studios stereo.   
And with his body wound tightly and eyes squeezed shut as he hides from the world behind the ratty garage couch, he feels pretty lost, but not in a way that makes him feel better.  
A breeze flows through the gap under the couch, and pushes a whine from Luke as he grits his teeth against the itching feeling the cool air leaves on his skin. 

He winds himself tighter and tries to draw himself back into the music, a song with a heavy drum piece plays, and his mind seems to latch onto the beat now reverberating in his head. Usually, the music helps him focus, helps him clear his head and his body and bring himself back down to a normal level of edginess, but right now the drumming in his head overwhelms him and creates a cacophony of discomfort, the thumping noises and itching skin and aching limbs prove to be too much.

Teeth grinding, and his body feeling wrong all over, Luke throws his head back to meet the hard floor behind him, vacantly trying to empty all the Wrong out of his head. The ringing in his ears pushes the drumming and the itching away and he does it again and again and the ratty carpet beneath his head only just softens the blow against the concrete but the ringing clears away the rest and his jumbled brain thinks it's a fair trade off.

The garage door swings open and rubber soled shoes squeak on the polished concrete floor. The squeak is bad and Luke grits his teeth, a whine escaping as he thrashes his head against the freshly encroaching panic. No people, not more.

He lacks the presence of mind to keep quiet or move away once Alex spots him, and in his teary state he only manages to moan out a tragically sad sounding, "Nooooo," as Alex tries to cushion his head with his hoodie.

His boyfriends hands hover unsurely as he tries to assess the situation Luke's in. A Meltdown, obviously, but the chaos of his little corner of the room doesn't tell him what's Bad and what's Good right now.

It takes a particularly loud guitar solo and the upsetting vision of his boyfriend thrashing on the ground for him to turn off the stereo. Luke, disheveled and on edge, curls further into himself and stills. 

"Ok ok ok ok," Alex mutters, now kneeling close to Luke's head and pushing to keep his own panic at bay to help the boy before him.  
He's seen meltdowns, he's seen destructive stimming, and he's seen overloads, but nothing as bad as this before. The uncharted territory makes his next moves hard.

He places his hand a few inches from where Luke's are gripping his own waist with vigor.

"Hi baby," he murmurs, keeping his voice soft.

He only gets a whine in return, but instead of pained it just sounds heartwrenchingly sad. Alex considers it an improvement. 

"You wanna get off the ground?" There's a thump as Luke pushes his back into the couch and away from Alex.

"That's okay, that's okay, we can stay here," he reaches his hand out again slowly, hovering before he makes contact.

"Can I touch you?" 

There's silence, and Alex knows this isn't so much a yes, or a no, or a refusal to answer the question, as much as it's Luke being unable to.

Another gust of wind flows through the garage, worse now with the open garage door, and the violent flinch and aching whine Luke let's out as the breeze swirls across the room let's Alex know that soft touch is out. He wracks his brain, thinking of overloads of the past, of what he'd read on Julie's laptop.

He places his hand on Luke's upper arm, gripping firmly but not so tight as to hurt him, and in response, Luke extracts a hand from his tangled limbs and squeezes the fabric of Alex's hoodie, before tugging him forwards and burying his face in the pilled and overwashed fabric. 

Eventually, Luke falls asleep. His body still tense and teeth still held so tight Alex was sure his jaw would hurt when he wakes. 

And Alex would be willing to sit here til he did, and hold his sore face gentle in his hands til he made the world feel right again.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, im projecting on our sunset curve boys.  
> I finally have Reggie a break from the whump, I just can't help the fact that there is no way Luke is neurotypical either (like, no way).
> 
> I take prompts!  
> Feel free to send one to me through my Tumblr (givebackmycarradio) or in the comments!
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
